


Love is About Sacrifice

by CarnivalofBrokenDolls (yourrhinestoneeyes)



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Domestic, Drug Abuse, Ed's father mention, Fluff, Future events, M/M, Mental Illness, Mentions of past child abuse, Post Season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 04:01:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10733709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourrhinestoneeyes/pseuds/CarnivalofBrokenDolls
Summary: Ed has bad days, they are different than the bad day of an average person though. His come with torturous memories and a body count.





	Love is About Sacrifice

Ed had been having what he often considered a bad day. Not in the sense that things were going wrong or that he suffered a series of bad events that left him frustrated or depressed. No, for him a bad day was when either right when he woke up or at some point in his day something struck him. A sudden unwanted memory, a flashback to a traumatic event in his life, or just a darkened mood would take him over and leave him panicked and tense.

His mind was berating him with memories he wished to permanently forget. He could remember things from his childhood with a disgustingly vivid amount of detail, he could even smell the stench of cigarettes that hung heavy in the air of the small home they had lived in. He could feel his father’s rough calloused hands as they would grab his wrists, he could hear the snap of the leather belt before it would connect with his bare back.

Memories, they hurt, and they left Ed with an overwhelming sense of anxiety throughout the day.

Once he was certain the mansion was empty he had snuck upstairs and into the bedroom, Ed went to the bedside table, opened the drawer and rummaged through until he found a small gold box. He popped open the lid revealing white capsules inside. His fingers shook as he took out a single pill, he looked nervously over his shoulder paranoid that Oswald would enter the room at this very moment.

He knew how Oswald felt about the pills, he couldn’t blame him. The pills were bad, they gave Ed terrible pains in his head, he saw things that weren’t there, and when he crashed it was bad. A nagging fear in his head told him that if Oswald ever found out that he was still on speed, that Oswald would just up and leave him. He wasn’t entirely sure if he could handle the man leaving him for a second time.

Despite that the nagging thoughts and memories coaxed him into falling into a harmful habit. He popped the pill into his mouth, bit it open, and let the medicine dissolve on his tongue. He breathed through the usual bout of tension and anxiety that speed caused him, within a minute he felt on fire. He felt an electricity coursing through his body making it nearly impossible to stand completely still, there was a fire in his head wiping him clean of his father’s abuse.

Now the Riddler was back in control. He smiled to himself feeling better, he knew the pill wouldn’t last long, he would crash in two hours if he was lucky it would last that long.

Back when Oswald had been missing the drugs lasted less and less time, Ed’s constant usage had cut down their effectiveness, he’d ended up taking them every fifteen to twenty minutes growing increasingly frustrated with his crashes and with how fast they wore off.

Ever since Oswald had come back into his life and they reached stable ground he had stopped for good, no more relapses, except for a time or two. The drugs worked better this way.

After quickly dressing into his signature suit and bowler hat he was out the door and off to ‘work’. His plans per usual went off without a hitch, his green question marks left painted on buildings and signs leaving a trail to his latest exhibit of chaos. Bodies were strewn like ornaments decorating a room of gore, such a macabre display, but it didn’t have to be that way. If only they had understood, if only those men at the door had allowed him entrance, if only those doctors had gotten the answer to his very simplistic riddle correct, and if only that damn woman hadn’t tried to sneak off and call the cops.

Oh well. It was over and done with.

Just in time too, the pill he had taken was wearing off leaving him shaky and sensitive. His skin felt prickly, there was a sharp pain in his head, and within seconds’ bad feelings and thoughts were flooding his mind.

By the time he returned to the manor he could only make it to the loveseat where he collapsed, face buried in his hands as he focused on his breathing doing his best to calm his racing heart.

He got an hour to calm from the crashing come down before Oswald returned home. Normally this would have given him an overwhelming sense of comfort and a feeling of security, but the moment his partner stumbled into the room he knew something was off.

He could smell the stench of booze on him as he came closer to where Ed was seated on the love seat, there was a look of rage on his face, a familiar fire in his eyes, and a snarl to his lips that depending on the day could fill Ed with pride and arousal or on a day like this, could leave him quiet and afraid. The anger in his eyes reminded him of his father, the bottle that Oswald clutched in his right hand was so familiar to Ed. He watched as Oswald brought the whiskey bottle to his lips downing what remained of its contents before hurling it across the room. The bottle smashed against the wall, the sudden sound caused Ed to flinch, he pressed himself against the arm of the couch.

“O-Oswald?”

Oswald wasn’t angry with him.

What if he found out about the pills, what if Ed had done something wrong at the crime scene and something traced back to one or both of them? What if he decided Ed wasn’t worth the time he was wasting on him?

He could smell the whiskey on his father’s breath, could feel his hot breath against his face as he screamed at him. He would shove at his chest, calling him a pussy and daring him to hit back, to be a man. Ed would cry and scream, he would beg him in such a weak shuddering voice to just back up, to please leave him alone. He couldn’t breathe when he got that close to him, when he was towering over him despite the fact his father was almost his height. 

Ed flinched a second time when Oswald touched his leg.

When had he sat down?

It took him a moment to even realize Oswald didn’t look as rage filled as he had just a second ago, maybe more than a second had passed.

“Ed, what happened?” 

Something was wrong, he must have done something wrong. Oswald found the pills. 

He studied his partner’s face, he looked for a sign there was no danger, but memories of his father haunted him. Oswald wreaked of alcohol, his clothes were ruffled, Ed knew he had been in a physical altercation. His knuckles were bloodied and bruised, bottom lip split open where somebody had gotten him good. Ed had the urge to reach out and swipe his thumb across his bloodied lip, to kiss his damaged knuckles, but he couldn’t get himself to move. He just sat there staring at him, mouth open, and eyes wide like a frightened deer. 

Ed started to speak, but he couldn’t. He looked away choosing instead to look towards the roaring fire in the fireplace. He tensed when Oswald took a hold of his hand.

“You’re covered in blood.”

He looked back towards him now feeling confused by the comment. It wasn’t until he looked down at the hand that Oswald was holding that he realized what he meant. His hands were soaked as well as his suit.

He didn’t remember that, he knew he had killed them all, but he didn’t know he had caused enough carnage that it left him thoroughly stained.

There were blanks in his memory and he knew that was bad, he knew the way that Oswald was looking at him now was also quite worrying. He didn’t like it when Oswald looked at him in that way, it wasn’t like he feared Ed.

Hell, maybe he was, he should be.

The things he had done to him in their past, the war that raged on between them.

“Ed, hey I need you to focus on me.”

Ed looked back at him, really looked at him. He focused on the beautiful green eyes that were full of worry, he felt himself smile shyly as he looked at him. The look of worry on Oswald’s face seemed to increase when Ed started to smile, there was a tinge of fear. He scared him too.

“Ed come on, we’re going upstairs, and I’m going to get you cleaned up. Okay, darling?”

Darling, the way he said it. So soft, so endearing. Ed could almost pretend that Oswald really meant it, he could almost forget the stench of whiskey on his breath.

He allowed it when Oswald pulled him up from the couch, he kept a hold on Ed’s hand guiding him out of the room and up the stairs towards the master bath. Ed tried to keep focus, but his head was throbbing. He couldn’t keep the dark memories from assaulting his brain, they came in waves crashing down hard upon the rocks of his mind.

Before he knew it they were in the bathroom, he was sitting on a stool near the door and Oswald was carefully removing his clothes.

Ed watched as Oswald undid the knot on his tie slipping it off from around his neck and tossing it to the floor behind him, next he pushed Ed’s jacket down his shoulders, as he began working on the buttons of his shirt Ed dropped his vibrantly green jacket to the floor. When he looked down he noticed his once white dress shirt was drenched with blood, so much so that it was nearly black. Oswald’s fingers were shaking slightly as he carefully undid each button, his brow furrowed as he focused on each button. Ed almost wanted to take over and do it himself, but his fingers were tingling and he couldn’t do a damned thing to make himself move. He did admit he felt better when the shirt was removed.

“What happened?” Oswald asked as he very cautiously touched his fingers to a long cut along Ed’s chest.

The cut as far as Ed could tell wasn’t exactly deep, but the skin around it was red and irritated, a mild swelling around the wound. He hissed and flinched away when Oswald pressed his fingers to the reddened flesh around the knife wound.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He quickly apologized pulling his hand away.

Another memory struck him; he remembered being bullied intensely at school. Cornered back behind the school where other boys would hold him on the ground and beat him until he blacked out. Memories of being shoved down a flight of stairs at school, a sprained ankle and his fellow classmates stepping over him while he cried from the pain shooting up his injured leg. 

Oswald took Ed’s face in his hands, thumbs gently brushing against his cheeks wiping away dampness, wiping away tears.

“Eddie, I drew a bath for you. Come on, I need you to get into the tub.”

He sounded worried, he sounded like he was doing everything he could to remain calm.

Something in Ed’s head nagged him that Oswald wanted to beat him, that he wanted to scream, and throw things at him. He probably hated him, he never loved him; when they had been waging war on each other Oswald had enjoyed it, he probably missed that. Missed having Ed as an arch enemy, he didn’t want this, to deal with this.

Wordlessly Ed stepped into the tub, he lowered himself into the calming warm water. He couldn’t help, but sigh content with the water that moved in slow little movements as he moved. 

The black outs and the negative thoughts and memories stayed at bay, just for a while. He did what he could to keep them away, shove them into the abyss of his mind.

Oswald knelt by the tub, he carefully washed him with a cloth, minding the bruises and cuts that marked his body. Ed fixated on his gentle touch, he looked at his still damaged knuckles wondering what mischief his lover had been up to in the hours that they were apart. What had happened that caused him to run to a bottle?

His dad’s knuckles used to get that bruised and bloodied from beating him.

“Ed, you’re worrying me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Oswald pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

“Are you having one of those days?”

Ed smiled to himself. He had in his own way explained things to his partner, he had at the least told him that sometimes he blacked out, sometimes he lost absolute control over who he was as a person. There were times he acted and couldn’t remember it, there were days he was depressed, or days that his anxiety got worse. Ed hadn’t gone beyond any of that, nothing to give his partner too much insight into his psyche, Oswald already knew far too much about Ed. If he knew the mucky parts there was a good chance he would leave him, go off to find somebody else who was more grounded and wasn’t some weak little victim just trying to prove himself to a father he hadn’t spoken to in years.

“Are you mad at me?” Ed asked avoiding Oswald’s question.

“What, no of course I’m not, why would I be mad at you?” He asked wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

Another kiss to the top of his head, his hand moved just a few inches beneath the surface of the water. Ed took hold of his wrist pulling his hand up to his lips pressing gentle kisses to each knuckle.

“You’ve been drinking,” Ed commented.

“I’ve had a rather frustrating day, it didn’t exactly end well for the people who set me off. I’ll leave it at that. If you’re concerned about me driving while under the influence, I had Victor drive me home.”

“Can we go to bed, I think I should lay down.” 

“Of course,”

Oswald helped him up out of the tub, he handed Ed a towel to dry himself off with. Ed almost felt a sense of relief when Oswald exited to their bedroom, being alone felt nice. He no longer smelled alcohol, he had time to look at himself in the mirror that hung above the sink and really study his wounds.

Bruises decorated both arms, he knew it had to be from somebody grabbing at him, trying to pry him away. There were two scratches on the left side of his throat, he felt they were from the woman who had tried to call the cops on him and his puzzles. For a split second, he remembered a letter opener, one of the older men he thought, one of them had gotten hold of a weapon. They had blindly swung at him, cutting into him and that had been a deathly mistake.

The marks would fade, nothing too marring; nothing like the marks his dad would leave on his back with his belt.

A belt, a phone cord, a spatula, a piece of wood, and one time a golf club.

Ed felt the tension fill him again, he felt cold and exposed standing naked in the bathroom. He wrapped the towel around his waist before making his way into the bedroom where Oswald was sitting on the bed waiting for him.

He took a seat on the bed keeping a good bit of space between them, as much a space as the king-sized bed allowed, which thankfully was a lot more than he thought.

He could feel Oswald’s eyes on him, he felt himself worrying more and more with each passing second and minute. He could smell alcohol again, it overwhelmed him, and at this point he wasn’t sure if it was real or from memory.

“I don’t like when you drink.” 

Ed tensed after the confession left his lips, he kept his eyes cast downward.

He could feel Oswald looking at him, the heat of his gaze burned him. He by habit waited for screaming or for a smack across the face. His dad would have already grabbed a fistful of his hair and shoved him to the ground for saying something like that.

“What?”

“I know it’s stupid, you are an adult and you can do what you want, but it’s just….”

Ed let out a shuddering breath, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was ridiculous, he was being a child. 

That didn’t stop him from flinching when Oswald placed a hand on his knee.

“Ed, you can talk to me, what’s wrong?”

He kept his focus on the comforter, “I’m worried you are going to get yourself hurt either through actions or due to medical problems. You said medical problems run in your father’s side of the family, you told me you don’t believe in doctors, and how do either of us know you aren’t sick? It’s that and I know this is dumb, I’m sorry, but…..But what if when you drink and you’re angry, what if you take it out on me?”

He felt himself shaking, he felt like a moron. He was a moron, an absolute moron. 

He waited for the screaming, for an outburst of some sort from the man sitting across from him. He felt there should be screaming at this point.

Oswald moved closer to him on the bed, he took hold of Ed’s hands holding them in his own. 

“Ed, please look at me.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No, I’m not. I need to know you hear me, please.” He spoke in a gentle voice, such a delicacy to it.

Ed couldn’t help but look up and meet his eyes, he was taken by surprise to see how hurt and worried Oswald looked.

“Why would you, why would you think that I would ever hurt you?”

“I know it’s dumb, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry.”

“No, no darling it’s….I just want to know why you feel this way.”

“You’ve seen the marks on my back.”

“Yes.”

“My dad did that, when he was drunk. He would drink and he would get so full of rage about my mom putting on weight after she had me, he would get angry, because I was so quiet. He took it out on me, all on me, and he was always drunk.”

“Ed, God I’m so sorry that happened to you. You did not deserve that, you were a child. He had absolutely no right to put his hands on you.”

There was a glint in his eyes, one that set Ed at ease. It was that danger, but Ed knew the danger wasn’t aimed in his direction.

“Promise me you won’t ever do that.”

Oswald pressed a kiss to his forehead, “I swear on my life I will never lay a hand on you. If you really wish for it I’ll stop drinking, I didn’t know that it bothered you this much.”

He felt dumb, Oswald was always changing for him. Talking more gently, yelling less when they were alone, giving him space, and holding him when he cried for reasons neither of them knew. Now he was giving up something he seemed rather fond of, just because Ed was over reacting. What was Ed willing to give up?

“I love you Oswald.”

Oswald placed a hand against his cheek, fingers caressing bruised skin.

“You are the love of my life Mr. Nygma, nobody, not even me will hurt you.”

Ed could believe that, there was a determined honesty in the depths of his eyes. He turned his head to the side pressing a kiss to the palm of his lover’s hand.

“Do you think we can rest, just for a while? I feel like absolute hell.”

“Of course, Ed, whatever you need.”

When they were laying in bed together he felt comfort, he felt secure. He felt soft kisses against the scars on his back, he pressed kisses to the bruises on Oswald’s knuckles. All of the pain of remembering, past trauma was seeping back into its own secret abyss, it would all come to surface on another day. 

Ed smiled to himself when he finally did start feeling more himself again, the self that left him confident and sure that the man pressed against his back would give him the world. Oswald would slaughter anybody who dare lay a hand on Edward, he would never allow fatal harm to befall his partner. Ed knew this, he knew the sacrifices that Oswald was willing to put into their relationship.

He waited until the other man was fast asleep, Ed carefully got out of bed, he grabbed the box of pills from the drawer and took them into the bathroom. He opened the box dumping its contents into the toilet bowl, he looked down at the drugs one last time before flushing them down.

Love was about sacrifice, he needed to learn how to start sacrificing as well.


End file.
